


Reunion

by WhyMrSpook



Series: Peaceful, in the Deep. [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff, Hurt Kirk, Hurt Spock, M/M, Post-Mission, Protective Kirk, Shameless Smut, Spanking, Top Spock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 01:50:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11704314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyMrSpook/pseuds/WhyMrSpook
Summary: After emerging from a healing trance, Spock finds Jim is far too clingy, and so takes care of him.





	Reunion

Jim sat in the chair beside the infirmary bed, feeling far too at ease with his surroundings. The private room they were in was less just another one of Bones’ wards, but the Command Team’s private recuperation suite. It was ridiculous how often Jim felt like he was in that room- whether for his own health or to visit one of his crew. If he could go back in time and tell himself how natural he’d feel sat next to a hospital bed, his younger self would probably throw a fit. It was wrong, and not at all James Kirk. Accident and injury was part of the job and, with Bones as his Doctor, Jim had no way of maintaining a loathing of the practice of medicine. It wasn’t like he had the capacity to loathe any part of the Enterprise anyway. What hurt, though, was the sight of Spock in that bed. He could never get used to that. For all he trusted Bones, for all the worse situations they’d been in, there was nothing quite so torturous as watching Spock laying unfathomably still. Jim had been forced to the bridge for the majority of his boyfriend’s healing trance, thankfully, or else he wasn’t sure he would have been able to make himself walk away of his own accord. Bones would have tried to get him to leave, but Bones had even lower patience when it came to Spock, and he’d had given up sooner rather than later and left Jim to mope.

Jim had returned an hour shy of Spock waking. He’d sat in his usual chair and worked on his PADD, eyes flicking up far too often to check on his First Officer to be remotely focused on his report. Nothing went wrong, at least. Spock woke, like he always did from a trance, slowly and carefully. His muscles tensed and his eyelids flickered, and then opened finally. Jim’s PADD lay forgotten on the arm of his chair, and it stayed there throughout Bones’ examination of his First Officer.

“Alright Spock, you’re good to leave. Take your time dressing-“ Bones said finally, lowering his tricorder. He paused, looking up at Spock with an irritated determination. “I mean it. You didn’t heal yourself completely. One sharp move and you’re back in here for a week.”

Jim watched from his chair beside the bed, anticipating Spock’s thinly veiled sarcasm in reply. Instead, his boyfriend just nodded simply and silently. The gravity of the situation hit him again, like a blow to the stomach. Spock wasn’t back to full health yet, obviously, or he’d be subtly quipping at Leonard with his usual wit.

“Good. Come to my office when you’re ready.” Bones nodded at him with an ounce more respect than before, probably too shocked or grateful at the lack of argument to maintain a glare. His gaze flicked to Jim briefly and his brows furrowed ever so slightly, though Jim just looked away. He was fine. Bones couldn’t do anything to help him, really. He just needed Spock and sleep. Bones knew that- he always knew, even if his natural instinct was to stick Jim with a hypo at the first opportunity he got.

Bones left without another word, and the room was suddenly silent again. Jim watched from his chair, the world distant and dreamlike, as Spock slipped out of bed and reached for the clothes Jim had fetched. Vulcan robes- loose fitting, warm and soft for his newly healed body. It didn’t look anything like it had done the day before, when they’d first brought him back on board. Then, he’d been mottled purple and red and blue. His collarbone, left wrist and knee, all broken. His nose and ears, bleeding.

“You had no reason to remain here, Jim.” Spock told him quietly as he dressed. Jim swallowed the retort that came to mind, biting and cruel, because he knew he was tired. “You have witnessed a trance before, you are aware of the process. The logical conclusion should have been for you to report to your quarters and rest.”

Spock was being annoying, but Jim continued to fight off his urge to snipe back at him. He always became doubly logical when something was wrong, like a safety blanket. It wasn’t necessarily bad, and it wasn’t actually annoying either. Not usually. He was just tired, like Spock was saying. Maybe they both were. It had been a long, long three days. Despite Spock’s logic, they both knew he couldn’t have gone elsewhere.

“Spock.” He tried to battle through the crack in his voice, the vulnerability he was damn glad the private room kept out of his crew’s ears- lest he aid ship’s gossip. “You were gone for two days.” He continued, gritting his teeth. “If you think for one second I was going to sleep without you-“

“I did not say that, Jim. I said to rest would have been the logical action.” Spock moved across the room towards him, his movements not quite at their full, graceful capacity. He was still recovering, still sore and exhausted. Jim knew those miraculous healing trances took more out of Spock than he ever wanted to let on; even if Leonard had reluctantly allowed him to return to his quarters now he was out of the danger zone. “I have never suggested you are a being of logic.”

It was hard not to crack a smile then. “I’d take offense if I didn’t know how much you adore my illogicality.” Exhaustion and bitter panic at the whole ordeal aside, he had Spock back, and he would be fine within a day’s cycle. The whole horrific encounter – the two days he’d spent separated from Spock, unsure if he was even still alive, and then the day waiting for him to wake – would be nothing more than another report for filing and submitting to Starfleet.

“It was not my intention to offend, I assure you.” Spock stood between his legs; his hands at his neck were soft and comforting. His very touch was a calming aid, so much so that Jim wondered if he was somehow projecting calm into Jim’s thoughts. He wasn’t sure what it mattered if it was true, at this point, and leaned into the touch without hesitation. Long fingers moved up through his hair, carding through what Jim could only imagine was a mess, unclean and unkempt since the morning they first transported down to the planet. He needed to shower. He needed to sleep. But now that Spock was conscious and touching him, holding him, he didn’t think he could bear to be apart from him for a while. His arms reached up and wrapped around Spock, wrapping his fingers into the fabric of Vulcan robe he’d adorned. It was Spock’s equivalent of civvies, and at any other point Jim would find it hot as hell. As it was, he just wanted to strip Spock again and curl up against his skin, feel his beating heart.

“Can we go to your quarters?” He asked to Spock’s chest, breathing in his scent deeply. That’s what he needed, the heat of Spock’s quarters. The Vulcan hangings that trapped his lover’s incense and made the entire room a constant, perfect heady aroma that both calmed and warmed him inside. Spock’s absence had left him cold and acutely panicked, beneath a layer of command skills, tactics and defiance against his captors. He’d mastered the art of feigning ‘fine’ until he could afford to be shit-scared a long time ago. The effect was never any less horrific when it finally hit him.

“If that is what you wish, Ashayam.” Spock’s fingers worked out of his thick hair and he stepped away, halting when Jim’s grip on his shirt only tightened. “Captain, I must report to Doctor McCoy.”

There was an unspoken ‘you are being illogical, we need to move’ on the end on his statement, and Jim tried to pull himself together.

“Right. Sorry.” He stood and, though he let one hand retreat, he kept the other wrapped securely around Spock’s waist. Not so much to support Spock, who could probably go on for another few days even in his current state, but to maintain some point of contact between them. Spock must have gathered as much from his thoughts, because he didn’t complain or pull away even to maintain a modicum of distance as they left their private room and entered the main medbay. It wasn’t like the crew didn’t pretty much know anyway; Jim was as tactful as he was logical, and he was a clingy drunk. He was clingy in general, it seemed, because he couldn’t find a way to let go of Spock. They entered Bones’ office, and Spock let out a little breath when he saw the hypospray out on the desk. If it was indignation or irritation, Jim would never know. Spock was like that. Sometimes completely unreadable when he decided he wanted to be. Jim was too tired to make any more than a vaguely educated guess.

“Don’t you dare.” Bones warned him without missing a beat, moving around the desk and bringing the hypo with him. “You’re not invincible Spock. If it were Jim, you’d be the same.”

Spock didn’t dignify that with a response, other than to tilt his head to the side and present his neck to the Doctor. Bones had a point- practically every single time Jim got a hypo, by surprise or with his consent, Spock consistently agreed with Leonard that it was the right course of action. Jim would have told Spock off himself, hell- he’d have made it an order – if he’d rejected the hypo.

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Bones looked smug for only a moment, before he looked to Jim with that frown again. Panic coursed through Jim swiftly when he determined that the look generally signified that Bones wanted to force a hypo on him too, but once again he didn’t comment. Bones simply moved away, setting down his hypospray and reaching for his PADD.

“You’re both off duty until we get to Starbase 4. Then you’re going to come back here before I deem either of you fit for duty-“

“Bones- what the hell, I’m not even hurt!” Jim protested, despite himself. It wasn’t as if he didn’t want the time off, to spend wrapped up in Spock and maybe a good book, just to refocus himself for a while, but two days seemed excessive. Especially when the most laborious thing they were doing was cruising towards a pit stop for some minor repairs. 

“No, just exhausted and pale as a ghost. Get over it, Jim, or I’ll keep you both here.” Bones set the hypospray down gently. “Get lost before I change my mind.” And then, almost as an afterthought as they were leaving, “Look after each other! And for the love of God, _shower_ Jim!”

 

 

 

Spock’s quarters looked as they always did, clean and very Spock. They just felt different. Like they’d been uninhabited for far too long. That wasn’t strictly true, because though they did use Jim’s quarters most of the time, they’d stayed in Spock’s only a week before after a late bout of meditation for Spock. Jim had been thoroughly confused to find his own quarters empty when he returned from the gym and he’d stumbled through their bathroom to Spocks as if lost. Spock had been meditating and the room had been hot and fragrant, and Jim had curled up on Spock’s bed and fallen asleep immediately.

He’d do that now, if he could.

“Jim.” Spock tried to extract himself from Jim’s grip and succeeded after only a moment- not that Jim was happy about it, but his grip was too weak to hold on any longer. He couldn’t even work out how much sleep he’d gotten over the last few days. He wanted to say a few hours, but it had been restless and spread out. It was more than he’d put up with since Tarsus- since he’d been scared to sleep.

“Sorry.” He said, retracting his hand like a scorned child. “I just… missed you, Spock.” Even despite his mild embarrassment at acting so pathetically needy, he still couldn’t take his eyes off Spock. He swore those deep brown eyes softened at him a little. There was nothing on earth to signify the next words that would leave Spock’s mouth.

“Strip, James.”

A startled response caught in Jim’s throat, but the command had gone straight to his cock and he redirected his energy towards trying not to shiver. He was too tired for this, but too wired up for anything else. He dragged heavy arms up with his shirt, pulling away at both his Gold and Black in one awkward movement. The boots proved even harder. His fingers didn’t want to cooperate, didn’t want to apply any sort of pressure at all, but he eventually managed to tug them away and then kick his pants away, leaving himself nude and shaking minutely in the full lights of Spock’s quarters.

“Your tactics were, as ever, flawless, Captain. You protected both the Crew and the Ship. You succeeded.”

“Don’t… Spock, don’t talk tactics at me. You’re not a pawn in a chess game- I would never sacrifice you. I knew I’d get you back.”

“As you did.” Spock offered him a hand, and Jim took it uncertainly.

They walked to the bathroom, and Jim allowed himself to be manoeuvred into the shower. He stood still as Spock switched on the hot water and it cascaded down his back, almost too hot to be comfortable for a long moment. In that time, Spock stripped much more quickly than Jim had done, joining him under the spray without further delay. Jim’s eyes fell closed the second Spock’s fingers found his head again, breaking through thick locks of hair and working the hot water into his scalp in a motion that was confusingly both soothing and arousing. Jim wasn’t sure if he wanted to sleep or get pounded beneath the spray. Then again, Spock was still recovering, so perhaps wall sex wasn’t an option. Saying that, Jim didn’t think he had the energy to top either.

“Patience, Ashayam. There will be time tomorrow, once you are rested.”

Jim nodded, hands reaching out for Spock’s narrow waist whilst Spock took a moment to squeeze out some shampoo into his palm. When his hands returned to Jim’s head, the experience simply improved tenfold. Spock worked up a lather, and Jim tried his best to keep his head upright, dragging Spock closer to him, desperate for more contact. He still intended to sleep beside that beating heart- but he also wanted to stare right into those perfect brown eyes until he straight up passed out, because then at least it wasn’t his choice to ever look away.

Spock washed the shampoo out of his hair quickly, and his hands moved steadily down Jim’s back, kneading and caressing as they went. It was an odd battle within Jim, to feel so loved and so guilty at the same time. Spock had only just been released from sickbay- he had no business even being upright, let alone in the shower looking after Jim- he needed to be resting.

“My healing trance has replenished me adequately for this, James. I will tend to you as I see fit, and then we will both retire.” His hands lowered to Jim’s arse, his thumbs pressing in to the flesh and pulling their groins together tightly. “Do you understand, Captain?”

“Y-Yes.” Jim’s cock was already showing renewed interest in the proceedings, re-awakened from the deeply relaxed state Jim had entered under Spock’s ministrations. “Spock, please-“

Spock’s mouth was at his collarbone, hotter than the water on his back and much more distracting. His teeth grazed with perfect skill, dragging down his chest and pausing at his nipples teasingly. It wasn’t nearly enough for how tense Jim was- how wound up he felt. He’d happily let himself be manhandled; he wanted to be held down and fucked, have Spock fuck his mouth, everything- But he already knew he wasn’t going to get that, just from Spock’s slow, tantalising touches. It probably would have killed him anyway, and Jim trusted that Spock would take care of him. Make it good. Spock always made it good. His talented fingers crept around, finally, and trailed around his thighs, scraping momentarily before the pads of his fingers touched against Jim’s balls. There they stilled.

“After you had returned to the enterprise without me, how long did you delay before allowing Doctor McCoy to set your arm?”

Jim tried not to move, tried not to thrust or whine or ask for more. He swallowed and breathed sharply. “Twenty minutes.” He admitted. “I had to make sure we couldn’t find a way to beam you up.”

Spock’s fingers trailed down the length of his erection, finally, more than just a grazing touch now. Jim’s breath hitched and he fought back a whine to beg for more. “You were aware that this was not possible. Myself and Mr Scott had _made_ you aware.”

“I had to try, Spock. Bones stayed with me the whole time.” He wasn’t sure what exactly he was trying to justify. He hadn’t disregarded his own health- a gammy arm wasn’t going to kill him. He’d just needed to make sure that there was no way of retrieve Spock instantly, because that would have solved a lot of their problems.

Spock observed him for a long moment. “Twenty minutes.” He repeated, removing his hands from Jim’s cock and holding his hips again. “Lean against me, James. One blow for each minute you allowed yourself to suffer needlessly.”

“Spock-” Jim’s voice was a wreck. God, he didn’t even sound like himself, and he wasn’t sure if he even _was_ arguing anymore. He wanted this. He allowed Spock to move his forwards again, buried his head against Spock’s collarbone and tried not to wind his fingers into Spock’s dishevelled hair, holding his shoulder blades instead.

“Good, Jim.” One of Spock’s hands remained on his hip, the other pulled back ominously. Jim doubted Spock was going to really make him suffer, though. This wasn’t exactly feel like a _punishment,_ not as far as he could tell. Spock was just giving him what he needed.

The first blow was harsh. Jim gasped, his hardness driving forwards against Spock’s, and nothing had ever felt so good. Two through to ten were all equally as strong, until Jim was whimpering and feeling the burn lasting between blows. The rhythm was steady, though, and rewarding, and their cocks together was almost more fantastically agonising than the spanking. Jim wanted nothing more than to take them both in hand and thrust and climax on their stomachs.

The rest of the blows were a mess of locations and pressure and gaps between, leaving Jim disoriented and desperate for more- but blow twenty focused him again, harsh and finalistic. He was so hard he thought only a meld would tip him over instantly, but Spock was in control. Spock was looking after him.

“Very good, Jim. Your performance is most satisfactory.” The same hands that had left his backside burning rubbed him knowingly, and the praise was inexplicably gratifying. “Make me come, Jim, and I will reward you.”

He took the permission wholeheartedly, reaching a hand between them and grasping at Spock’s length without delay. He was ridiculously hot and hard, and Jim’s hand wrapped around him as though he were a precious commodity. Perfect, so perfect. He knew, had learned quickly, just how Spock liked to be handled, even if it wasn’t quite enough. If Jim were in control, he’d have worshipped Spock, and a hand seemed nothing in comparison. But he wasn’t in control, so he settled for making it the best hand job he’d ever given, starting to work Spock in earnest. Spock made a familiar noise, somewhere between a moan and a growl, deep in his throat, and Jim increased his pace.

“Cease.” Spock’s hand on Jim’s neck manoeuvred them both around, taking Jim out of the shower’s stream. He batted Jim’s hands away, and moved his own to his cock for the final few pumps. Jim gaped, his own cock throbbing and dripping precum, when Spock tipped over the edge and coated his stomach. The entire sight of him was transfixing; Spock, open mouthed and glassy eyed as he recovered steadily, his hand clutching Jim’s neck tightly.

“Fuck.” Jim breathed out.

“Not tonight.” Spock replied, seamlessly, as if he hadn’t just orgasmed. Jim almost whimpered at how desperate he was, how _close_ he was, the way the air felt right before a summer thunder storm. “Trust me, Ashayam.”

Jim nodded fervently, right until Spock bent his left knee and made to kneel- at that point he tensed, anticipated flooding him far beyond that which he was already experiencing. Fuck- there was nothing, nothing in the world, that compared to the sight of Spock on his knees before him. It was maddeningly hot, _unbearably_ so, and Jim stared, tried desperately not to tremble at the tongue that began to work across his flesh, lapping with intent. Sucking, expertly, rhythmically. Spock’s mouth was hot and wet, and he was dedicated in his mission to bring Jim to his own release. Spock wasn’t teasing, not tonight. He wanted Jim dozy and satisfied and clean. He wanted Jim to drift off to sleep in his arms, and Jim wanted that too. More than anything, he wanted to let go.

Release came swiftly, and Jim’s fingers clenched into Spock’s shoulders, steadying him through the waves of orgasm. How Spock had retained such a clear head, in his tired and healing state no less, was beyond Jim. He was boneless as Spock manoeuvred them back into the shower, rinsing their bodies once more before he went to locate a towel. Jim still didn’t want to let go of Spock; he didn’t want Spock out of his sight. For two days, at least. He’d alter shifts if he had to, he wasn’t above that.

Spock’s embrace was warm and assured, as ever. He let Jim lean heavily against him, and they moved to the bed. There, covers were draped over Jim, and Spock curled up at his side, his heavy arm lying on Jim’s waist. Jim could feel Spock’s heartbeat. The steady rise and fall of his chest. Still, just as he had been lying in sickbay in his healing trance, but the difference was staggering. Jim was no longer scared, no longer aching for Spock to just _look_ at him. Spock already was. Eyes open, watching Jim through eyes that were evidently tired. It was unusual for Spock not to disguise his exhaustion, but Jim wasn’t worried. It meant great things, when Spock was tired. It meant, in the morning, when Jim finally dragged himself to consciousness, Spock would still be curled up beside him.

“Love you, Spock.” Jim murmured in the dark, finally letting his eyes drift closed.

“Sleep, Ashayam.” Spock replied, and Jim intended to do just that.


End file.
